


Moving on and letting go

by Ailendolin



Series: Hearts and Souls [2]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Era, Fighting, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Making Up, More Fighting, Race tries to be a good friend and boyfriend at the same time, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, relationship troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailendolin/pseuds/Ailendolin
Summary: So this was their new normal: Race would still go over to Brooklyn most days and spend the nights there, but he always made sure to tell Albert or someone else if he wouldn’t be back. Wednesdays were reserved for Albert, though. Race would come and find him after he’d sold all his evening papers and they’d have dinner at the Lodging House before spending the evening in each other’s company. It didn’t really matter what they did as long as they did it together. Sometimes they talked quietly into the early hours of the morning. Other times they sat side by side on Albert’s bunk without talking at all, just soaking up each other’s presence. Race really came to love Wednesdays.Part 2 of the soulmate AU in which Race is Albert's soulmate but Albert isn't Race's. Spot finds out about Albert's heartmark and it puts a strain on his relationship with Race.





	1. Race

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Disney does. I'm just borrowing their characters and don't make any money with this.

**Moving on and letting go**

**Chapter 1: Race**

After he found out about Albert’s heartmark Race was determined not to let it change the friendship they had and he out right refused to allow it to make things awkward between them. Albert was his best friend. He’d been there for Race after he came back from a week-long stay at the Refuge. He’d held Race through his nightmares and given him a shoulder to cry on when Race couldn’t get rid of the feeling of Snyder breathing down his neck. He’d listened when Race complained about Toothpick, when he bemoaned the fact that he’d never see the boy called Arthur again, when he gushed about how amazing Spot was.

Albert had been there with and for him through it all, always offering silent support without ever pushing him in one direction or another. Race really appreciated that about him, even more so now that he knew about Albert’s feelings for him. It would have been so easy for Albert to tell him to dump Toothpick or Spot at the first sign of trouble in their relationship but he never had. Instead he’d let Race talk it through and figure it out on his own, and in the instances when he gave some advice it was always in Race’s best interests, not his own.

Race knew he hadn’t been as good of a friend to Albert in return. Some of that wasn’t his fault, of course. He hadn’t known about the mark over Albert’s heart and because of that he’d done and said some thoughtless things he deeply regretted now. But there were some things Race couldn’t blame on ignorance. When his relationship with Spot got more serious he’d started spending more and more of his time in Brooklyn after he was done selling, sometimes even staying the night without telling anyone about it. While Race didn’t regret spending time with Spot (how could he when Spot was such a wonderful, caring person underneath his tough exterior) he knew Spot wasn’t the only person in his life who cared about him and wanted to see him. Albert’s confession had opened his eyes to that and Race wanted to make sure he treated his friends a litter better from now on, Albert first and foremost.

“I want us to spend Sundays together,” he declared the evening he treated Albert to their delayed friendshipversary celebration at Jacobi’s. “It could be our day. Just you and me.”

Albert’s brow furrowed. “No, you don’t,” he told him flat out.

“Excuse me?” Race asked, surprised. “I do, too!”

One side of Albert’s mouth pulled up slightly. “That’s not what I meant. We can spend a day together. You know I’d love that,” he admitted, his cheeks reddening. “But not Sundays.”

“And why not?” Race asked, feeling a little put-out. “What’s wrong with Sundays? You got something better to do?”

Albert’s smile turned sad. “I don’t but you do.” When Race still didn’t understand he said, sounding a little exasperated, “Come on, Race, don’t be daft. Sunday’s the only day we have the afternoon off. If there’s anyone you should spend that extra time with it’s Spot, not me.”

“But I want to spend it with you,” Race argued, knowing he sounded childish and petulant and not caring one bit.

“You said _this_ ,” Albert gestured vaguely at his chest where his heartmark was, “wouldn’t change anything. I don’t want you to make concessions because of me, Race. You’ve always been in Brooklyn on Sundays.”

Albert was right. Even before he’d become friends and later more with Spot Race had been going to Sheepshead Bay to watch the races every Sunday afternoon. Nowadays Spot came with him and it wasn’t so much about the races anymore than about spending time together somewhere far away from their daily lives.

“All right,” Race gave in. “What about tomorrow, then? Wednesdays okay for you?”

Albert thought about that. “Wednesdays sound fine,” he said finally.

“Perfect,” Race grinned. “From now on my Wednesday evenings belong to you and you alone.”

Albert smiled shyly, eyes shining with happiness for one brief moment, before he looked away. “You don’t have to do this for me, though. You know that, right?”

Race sighed, hating that Albert thought so little of himself. “I do. And I promise you it’s not because of your mark. Well, it kind of is,” he amended, “but not in the way you think. It just made me realize that I haven’t been around much lately and that’s … that’s not okay. I want to change that, Al. I want to be a better friend.”

He expected Albert to argue but to his surprise he didn’t. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Race asked, amused. “Really, okay? Just like that?”

Albert chuckled. “I’m not a saint, Race,” he said. “I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to get to see you more often even if I wanted to – which I don’t, in case that wasn’t clear.”

So this was their new normal: Race would still go over to Brooklyn most days and spend the nights there, but he always made sure to tell Albert or someone else if he wouldn’t be back. Wednesdays were reserved for Albert, though. Race would come and find him after he’d sold all his evening papers and they’d have dinner at the Lodging House before spending the evening in each other’s company. It didn’t really matter what they did as long as they did it together. Sometimes they talked quietly into the early hours of the morning. Other times they sat side by side on Albert’s bunk without talking at all, just soaking up each other’s presence.

Race really came to love Wednesdays. There was just something about consciously making the effort to spend time with someone that made the whole experience a little special. Not that his days with Spot weren’t special, too. It was just different with Albert because Race was so much more aware of every small smile, every happy noise, every shy look. Explaining that to Spot, however, proved to be difficult.

“Tell me again why I can’t see you today?”

“Because it’s Wednesday,” Race said with a sigh, holding up his paper high in the air in the hopes of attracting the attention of some passerby. “And Wednesdays are for Albert.”

Spot crossed his arms and gave him a look. “Which one was Albert again?” he asked sarcastically.

Race glared at him. “My best friend, nitwit – as you well know.”

“Ah, yes,” Spot said. “Red. The grumpy one who always looks like a kicked puppy. I remember now.”

Annoyed, Race put his paper back into his bag. “All right, what’s going on?”

Spot’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I just don’t get why you have to spend today of all days with him. Tonight’s the great Brooklyn poker tournament. You love poker!”

“I just have to, all right?” Race said, knowing it wasn’t a real argument. He hadn’t told Spot about Albert’s heartmark yet. When he first brought up his decision of spending his Wednesdays in Manhattan he’d only told Spot that he’d neglected his friends and wanted to change that. It was the truth, just not all of it and Race knew that Spot suspected there was more to it than that. This wasn’t the first argument they had about a Wednesday evening.

“You just have to?” Spot parroted him. He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “That’s all you can come up with? What’s so important about Albert that you can’t change your plans even once?”

The last sentence hit a nerve. Angrily, Race grabbed Spot’s arm and pulled him into an alley, away from prying eyes and ears. “The last time I changed my plans was when your grandmother was in town,” he hissed at Spot. “You knew it was our friendship anniversary and you still persuaded me to ditch him. And I did, because I love you and you mean the world to me. When I came home that night Albert was drunk – because I had hurt him, because I had _changed my plans_ , and it had driven him over the edge. And you know why? Because he’s got my fucking name over his heart. So forgive me if I’m not willing to do that to him again.”

Race was breathing heavily by the time he was finished. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d backed Spot against the wall, hands fisted in his shirt and faces inches apart. He blinked and took a step back, lifting off his cap to brush a slightly trembling hand through his curls in the process.

“You’re his soulmate?” Spot asked quietly, looking taken aback.

“Heartmate,” Race mumbled. “He’s got a heartmark.”

“Oh,” Spot said in a small voice. “I didn’t know.”

Race huffed out a breath. “Neither did I until that night. I’ve been trying to be a better friend to him since then. That’s why Wednesdays are for him, Spot. That’s why I don’t make an exception, not even for Brooklyn’s famous poker tournament.” He swallowed hard. “Not even for you. I’m sorry if that hurts you but I’m trying to make up for being a lousy friend here and Albert deserves to be my number one priority sometimes, too.”

“Don’t you think you’re just leading him on?” Spot asked, voice unusually tentative as if he was unsure of how Race would react to that.

“I worry about that sometimes, yes,” Race admitted. “But he knows you’re my soulmate and he doesn’t expect anything from me. Not even my friendship. He would pack up his things and leave the moment I even so much as alluded to him making me uncomfortable.”

“Does he?” Spot asked, unable to hide a growl.

“Of course not!” Race told him, feeling anger bubbling up inside him once more. “He’s my best friend and if that makes _you_ uncomfortable than that’s your problem, Spot, not mine.”

Spot ground his teeth together. “Of course it makes me uncomfortable!” he burst out. “How can I compete with someone who’s got a heartmark?”

All the anger drained from Race at those words and he reached for Spot’s hand. “This is no competition,” he whispered before he brushed his lips against Spot’s cheek in a fleeting kiss. “I told you, Albert would never try to come between us. He isn’t like that.”

“Maybe you’re just not noticing it,” Spot mumbled half-heartedly.

Race took a step closer so he could lean his head on Spot’s shoulder. “You know, when I first had the idea to reserve one day of the week for Albert I suggested Sunday to him. And you know what he said? He said that Sunday’s your day because it’s the only day we have the afternoon off.” He sighed. “That’s why we settled on Wednesdays and why this is no competition, Spot. My happiness is more important to Albert than his own and he knows that I’m happy with you. There really is no need to feel threatened.”

To his relief Spot smiled at him and Race leaned down to give him a kiss. “You’re a better man than me, Race,” he mumbled when they broke apart. Race smiled and his heart filled to the brim with affection.

“I know this is a difficult situation,” he began, “and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this before but Albert and I are just getting back to normal and we haven’t even talked about telling you. I have no idea if he’s okay with this so please don’t spread this around, yeah?”

“Don’t worry,” Spot reassured him. “Secret’s safe with me.”

Race pressed another kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I really love you.”

Spot’s face melted into the soft expression Race was so incredibly fond of. “I love you, too. Sorry for being a jerk about the tournament.”

“Apology accepted,” Race told him, feeling relieved that Spot knew now and he had someone beside Crutchie to talk about the situation. “Now let me get back to selling or people will die uncultured!” he said jokingly.

Spot gave him a devilish grin. “I’m not the one who dragged his boyfriend into an alley in the middle of the day.”

Race snorted. “But you were the one who distracted his boyfriend from selling in the first place.”

“True enough,” Spot acknowledged. When Race made to leave he circled one of his wrists with his hand and tugged him back. “One more kiss?”

“Always,” Race promised, pressing close once more. After he pulled back he took a moment to take in Spot’s lovely features, the dark hair and dark eyes that held so much emotion when one knew where to look. “See you tomorrow. And good luck at the games tonight. Make me proud.”

Spot puffed out his chest. “Don’t I always?” he asked, eyes glittering with amusement.

Race blew him a kiss before he stepped out into the sunlight again, paper in hand. “Extra! Extra! President signed the Gold Standard Act!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first sequel is here! I'm so excited to continue this soulmate idea of mine and share it with you guys! The response to "A love that will never grow old" has been so positive and your comments blew me away and I would just like to take this moment to tell you how incredibly grateful I am that you take the time to read what I write and leave kudos and/or comments. I really, really appreciate that! Thank you so much!
> 
> Just like the first story this one will have three chapters in different povs and we'll finally get to see the aftermath of Albert's revelation. There's not really a lot of JackCrutchie in this one, and I'm sorry about that, but we'll see more of those two in the second and third sequel, I promise. Right now the focus is on Albert, Race and Spot and I hope you guys enjoy this story as much as the first one! Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> This story is already completely written. I'm currently working on chapter 3 of the next sequel, so hopefully I'll have that finished soon (especially since I got a job offer today and I won't have much time to write come March ... but whoop whoop a new job!). 
> 
> See you in chapter 2 where we finally get to see things from Spot's perspective! Brooklyn's here ;)


	2. Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brooklyn's here and with Brooklyn comes a trigger warning for swearing ;) There's also one scene where one character grabs another by the arm and the latter character claims they're hurting him. It's not what it seems like which is why I don't want to put a warning for abuse here, but in case you're triggered by something like that I thought I'd mention it at least.

**Chapter 2: Spot**

It took time for Spot to admit he was worried. Ever since that day in the alley when Race told him that his best friend had a heartmark that spelled Race’s name there had been this feeling of dread churning in his stomach, getting more intense whenever he knew Race was with Albert for the evening. When he finally figured out that the idea of Albert and Race spending time alone together made him not only uncomfortable but insanely jealous as well despite the fact that he trusted Race, he’d known he had to talk to Race about it.

They’d ended up fighting that day.

It wasn’t the last time Albert was the reason they had an argument, either. No matter how often Race assured him that there was no need to be worried or jealous Spot couldn’t just let it go.

Because Race had changed.

Spot had seen it before Race had told him the truth and it was even more obvious now that he knew about the heartmark. Race was different now – more thoughtful and considerate, less impulsive and Spot hated that. It was like the weight of Albert’s confession had forced Race to grow up and become more responsible, thinking of the consequences of his actions instead of just doing something spontaneous like he used to. Spot missed the crazy, irresponsible things they sometimes did just for the fun of it, and he was more than a little pissed that Race wouldn’t budge from his standpoint that Wednesdays were reserved for Albert even when Brooklyn celebrated something that day, be it a birthday or someone making it out of the newsboy’s life and taking a step up the ladder.

Because, suddenly, Race had _principles_. Spot almost sneered at the thought. He didn’t think it was too much to ask Race to postpone his plans with Albert for one day so he could take part in something that was important to Spot – and not just to Spot, to the other Brooklyn newsies as well. Race had always been considered an honorary member of their little ragtag family, even more so after Spot started dating him. Of course they wanted him there with them on the big occasions – and Race always happily obliged, just not on Wednesdays. How Race couldn’t see that he was hurting them by putting Albert first was beyond Spot, and it made him angry.

What made Albert so special, anyway? Sure, he was Race’s best friend and he had a heartmark, but what else had the boy going for him, really? All Spot remembered from meeting him at the rally was red hair and a scowling face. Albert hadn’t been outspoken, he hadn’t taken the lead, and Spot was sure if he could have he would have vanished into the background. He certainly hadn’t stepped up and tried to convince anyone to fight for what he believed in. Nothing Spot had seen of him that day had impressed him and it baffled him that someone like that could capture Race’s attention so much.

It was a sore topic between them.

“I just don’t get what you see in him,” Spot told Race one day, his frustrations finally getting the better of him when Race refused to eat dinner with Spot and his newsies even though a former Brooklyn newsie was treating them to a real meal for once. It was another Wednesday, they were in another alley and of course they were talking about Albert again. It seemed that was all they talked – or argued – about lately. “What makes precious Albert more important than me, huh?”

Race stared back at him in barely suppressed anger, lips pressed tightly together. “Albert is not more important than you,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve told you time and again that this is no competition, Spot.”

“Well, it sure feels like one when you’re always ditching me for him,” Spot growled.

“You’re being unfair, you know that?” Race said and Spot was surprised to find his voice shaking with emotion. “I’m trying my best here, Spot. I spend six days a week with you here in Brooklyn, barely seeing my friends, my family. Why can’t this be enough?”

Spot shook his head and scoffed. “Why can’t you see that you got family right here in Brooklyn, too?” he countered.  “Or what would you call me, huh? I would like to spend the rest of my life with you but you’re so busy trying to please everyone that you can’t see that!”

Race balled his trembling hands into fists. “Trying to please anyone?” he repeated quietly, almost dangerously so. “The only one I’m constantly trying to please is you and I’m not talking about the fun kind, either. Do you even realize that you’re constantly demanding things of me? I reserve one day a week to go home and spend time with my friends and you always, _always_ , come up with one thing or another we must do on that day and that day only. Why do you keep doing that? Do you think I like saying no to you? Because I don’t, Spot. I really don’t. But do you know what would happen if I gave in? I’d be spending seven days a week in Brooklyn. I wouldn’t go home at all.”

“And would that be so bad?” Spot asked, not liking how vulnerable that question made him feel.

Race took a step backwards. “I can’t believe you’re actually asking me that.”

“Why?” Spot challenged, hoping to finally get through to Race and make him see what’s right in front of him. “You’ve got a home right here. All you have to do is take it. But you don’t want that, do you?”

“No, I don’t!” Race shouted, breathing heavily, completely unaware how Spot’s heart broke when he said that. “I can’t believe we’re arguing about this again. I already have a home, Spot. Why don’t you come live with me in Manhattan instead, huh?”

Spot shook his head, clenching the paper bag at his side tightly. “You know very well why I can’t leave Brooklyn. I’m their leader.”

“And I’m Jack’s second-in-command!” Race said. He huffed in exasperation. “It’s only a matter of time until Jack leaves. His job with Pulitzer is looking real promising but he won’t ever seize his opportunities if I’m not there to take over.” He took a deep breath. “Don’t you see that I’m giving you all the free time I have right now because once Jack leaves I won’t be able to stay over much anymore?”

“Not all of your free time,” Spot muttered. He was aware that he sounded petulant. He also knew it was the wrong thing to say because a part of him – the rational one, not the angry one – realized that Race was really trying here and all Spot was doing was keeping them talking in circles. Race threw his hands up in the air, looking completely pissed off.

“Yeah, I’m real sorry I have a life besides you, Spot, and don’t devote every single second of it to you,” he practically spat. “You know what? Maybe it’s better if I spend the rest of the week in Manhattan, too.”

Spot felt his stomach drop. This was not how this was supposed to go. “Come on, Race. You don’t mean that.”

“I think I do, actually,” Race said, bringing some distance between them. “I think we both need some time to cool off and think about what we really want.”

Anger, irrational white-hot anger, bubbled up in Spot. “And I think we both know _who_ it is _you_ really want.”

With that he stormed off, leaving Race behind him in that alley without looking back. It took him five blocks to calm down, to stop muttering about fucking Albert DaSilva and his stupid heartmark, when he found himself in another alley, resting his forehead against the wall and trying to control his breathing. Slowly, the realization sank in that he’d screwed up. Not only had he accused Race of not making time for him, no, he had to go and accuse him of being in love with his best friend as well.

“Shit,” Spot mumbled, hitting the wall once, twice with his hand. He’d really done it this time, letting his jealousy and insecurities getting the upper hand and driving Race away in the process. Their fights were never this bad. They usually always found their way back onto common ground somehow, ending a row with a kiss instead of harsh words. This was the first time they had separated in anger, the first time Race had been so fed up with him that he didn’t want to see him for a while. Fear replaced any worry or jealousy Spot had felt before. What if Race decided he wasn’t worth his time anymore? What if he broke things off because he was tired of the constant arguments?

Spot was so stupid. Instead of being happy with what he already had he’d wanted more and more, even demanded it as Race had put it despite the fact that Race already gave him so much. No wonder Race liked to spend time with someone like Albert who apparently never asked for anything and took nothing for granted. Spot realized that if he wanted to keep Race in his life he had to stop pressuring him into things he clearly didn’t want. He had to learn to respect Race’s boundaries and decisions. He had to come to terms with the fact that on Wednesdays Race belonged to Albert and not to him, no matter how much he hated it, otherwise he’d lose Race and he’d have no one to blame for that but himself.

He also needed to apologize to Race as soon as possible. There was no way he’d get through the rest of the week without clearing the air between them. Which was why later that evening, after he’d sold all his papers and made sure his brothers were all right without him for a few hours, Spot made the long trek over to Manhattan to see Race. A part of him mourned the opportunity of getting a well-cooked meal for once but Race mattered more – he always would.

When he arrived at the Manhattan Newsboy’s Lodging House he took a moment to collect his thoughts before he stepped inside. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes he made earlier, going into this hotheaded and letting his feelings cloud his judgment. He needed to be cool and calm, otherwise history would just repeat himself and that was the last thing Spot wanted right now.

All his good intentions went flying out the window, however, when one of Race’s friends led him to the bunkroom upstairs and he found Race curled up next to Albert on one of the bunks, pouring over a tattered book with a huge smile on his facec as if he and Spot hadn’t had a huge fight just a few hours ago – as if the fight had meant nothing at all.

Spot took a deep, calming breath. “Race?” he asked with a forced smile, finally announcing his presence. He felt a little too satisfied when Albert flinched and scrambled away from Race in record time, looking slightly terrified and absolutely guilty.

Race, on the other hand, looked a lot less happy to see him than Spot had hoped he would. His previous smile vanished and he stared at Spot for a few good seconds before he deliberately closed the book and handed it to Albert. “What are you doing here?” he asked, standing up. Spot didn’t miss the way he placed himself between Spot and Albert.

Swallowing past the surge of jealousy Race’s protective stance ignited, Spot said, “I came to apologize. For earlier.”

“You’re missing the nice dinner,” Race pointed out.

“You’re worth it,” Spot shot back.

Two spots of color appeared high on Race’s cheeks even though he was still staring at Spot with a carefully impassive expression on his face. “You better get back. Might get some leftovers still.”

Spot blinked at him in disbelief. “That’s all you’re going to say? ‘You better get back’? Seriously, Race?”

Race shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Yeah, seriously, Spot. You came here to apologize and you did. Good for you. Now you can go back _home_.”

The way Race said that last word, as if he was mocking him, made Spot’s anger boil despite his best intentions. “Can we at least talk about this?” he ground out through gritted teeth.

“I think we’ve done enough talking for one day,” Race said. “I meant what I said earlier. We need some time apart. This – us, talking – isn’t going to help matters, not right now, not when we’re both still angry.”

Spot scoffed at him. “I wouldn’t be angry again if I hadn’t found you cuddling with _him_ on the bed!” he said, pointing at Albert who took a step backwards, holding his hands up in defense.

“W-we weren’t cuddling,” he stammered. “I p-promise!”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to him, Al,” Race said, his voice unbelievably gentle though his eyes never left Spot, silently daring him to come closer and threaten Albert. “You’re not the problem here.”

Spot snorted. “So who is it then, Race? Huh? Me? Because the way I see it things started falling apart right the moment you found out about his stupid heartmark.” He practically spat the cursed word. “Suddenly you’re all considerate of _his_ feelings. Well, what about mine? I’m your boyfriend, Race. I should matter, too.”

“And you do!” Race insisted. His hands fell helplessly to his sides. “You do, Spot,” he said softly. “You’re just so blinded by your jealousy or whatever this is that you can’t see it. And that’s exactly why you need to go, right now, before you make things even worse.”

“And again it’s my fault,” Spot said, letting out a harsh laugh. He couldn’t believe this. “Do you even hear yourself talk?”

“Do you?” Race shot right back.

Out of the corner of his eye Spot saw Albert taking a hesitant step closer. “M-maybe I should go so you two can … figure this out?”

“No!” Race said at the same time Spot shouted, “Yes!”

They glared at each other. Behind them a door opened and Jack poked his head in. “Everything all right here?”

“Spot was just leaving,” Race said, taking a step away from Spot and closer to Albert.

Spot saw red. He reached for Race’s arm, yanking him forward. “Does it already say his name on your skin?” he growled. “Is that why you so desperately want me to go?”

“God, of course not!” Race exclaimed, trying to tug his arm out of Spot’s grasp. Spot’s fingers tightened their hold and he roughly pushed up Race’s sleeve with his other hand. “Let go! You’re hurting me!”

Seemingly out of nowhere Albert barreled into Spot, landing them both on the ground with a hard thud. Spot hadn’t seen that coming at all and Albert took advantage of his surprise to pin his arms above his head, rendering him motionless. “Don’t you ever hurt him again,” Albert hissed.

Without thinking Spot brought his head up as fast as he could, effectively head-butting Albert and getting him off of him in the process. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he said, staggering to his feet. “Not you.”

“Stop it!” Race exclaimed but it wasn’t to Spot’s side he rushed. No, he fell to his knees beside Albert who was still on the ground, holding his head with one hand.

Spot’s heart broke.

Before he could take another step in their direction to do … something, anything, strong arms encircled him from behind. He struggled. “Let me go, Kelly!”

“No, you need to leave, Conlon,” Jack growled into his ear. “You’ve done enough damage for one day.”

“Tell that to him!” Spot shouted, nodding his head towards Albert who was now propped up on his elbows. “He’s destroyed everything!” Albert’s eyes met his, wide and scared. “ _You’ve destroyed everything!_ ”

Jack shoved him roughly around. “The only one who’s destroying anything right now is you. Get going, Conlon. I mean it.”

Having no other choice Spot let himself be forced down the stairs. He felt the stares of Race’s friends on him and glared right back, daring anyone to say anything. Most didn’t. Crutchie was the exception. That kid wasn’t scared of anything, it seemed. He followed them to the door and after Jack had roughly shoved Spot outside he said, “You know, Race really loves you.” His voice was quiet and matter-of-fact. “Albert’s not the one driving a wedge between you two. You’re doing a real good job of that yourself. Maybe you should consider what Race told you to do: _think about it_.”

They closed the door, leaving Spot standing alone in front of the Manhattan Lodging House. So much for apologizing and making things right, Spot thought grimly, glaring up at the windows. Crutchie could talk all he wanted but Spot had caught a glimpse of Race’s arm, of his own name in grey letters. They spoke the truth more clearly than any words could.

The soulmark was fading. He’d been right all along: he was losing Race because Albert DaSilva couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut and had to ruin the best part of Spot’s life. Tears began to prick his eyes but Spot swallowed them. He would not cry, not over this, not over Race with his stupid excuses and lies.

Not over a broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my first time writing Spot. That was fun. Not for him, Race or Albert, but for me. You guys are probably aware of the fact that I'm not really a Sprace shipper. It's always been Ralbert for me. But Spot is one of my favorite characters in the musical and I hope I did him justice and he didn't come across as a huge jerk. I wanted to show how a relationship can fall apart not because someone does something wrong and is to blame for it, but because sometimes people just grow apart, have different expectations of life and don't fit as well together anymore as they used to. That's what happened to Spot and Race. They still love each other but they're both unhappy with their relationship because neither of them can give the other what he wants. That's why Race's soulmark is fading: both he and Spot have changed and they're no longer compatible. I really hope I made that clear in this chapter that it's not their fault this is happening. Also, whatever Spot is thinking, Race isn't in love with Albert (yet). He doesn't see Albert as anything more than a friend. 
> 
> Another thing I want to talk about is that moment where Spot grabs Race's arm and Race tells him that he's hurting him. I want to make it very clear that Spot is actually doing no such thing. Race is overreacting. He doesn't want Spot to see his soulmark and basically uses that ("You're hurting me") to get Spot away from him. We'll see Race's pov on that in the next chapter but I just wanted to clarify that Spot would never hurt Race and didn't, in this case. 
> 
> Anyway, long note, sorry folks. Thanks to everyone who's reading and liking this and leaving comments. It always makes my day to hear from you! The final chapter should be up on Saturday or Sunday! See you then!


	3. Albert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for mention and brief description of child abuse.

**Chapter 3: Albert**

Ever since their latest friendship anniversary Wednesdays were Albert’s favorite part of the week. For a few precious hours Race was home and that made all the difference because Race would give Albert his undivided attention and Albert loved it. He positively reveled in it, soaking it up just like a flower drinking in the rain after a long drought. To him Race was like the sun, unfailingly brightening up not only the room but Albert’s whole life as well the moment he so much as smiled. Albert knew he would never get tired of seeing it, of seeing _him_.

The best part about Wednesdays was the evenings. After eating dinner with the others Race would take Albert’s hand and pull him away from the noise and commotion of their friends towards the relative peace and quiet of the bunkroom. They would sit down on Albert’s bed, close enough that their shoulders were pressed together, and with a blanket spread over them if it was chilly that night. Some evenings they’d spend the time until light out talking about everything and nothing: the latest headline, the weather, Crutchie’s upcoming birthday, the possibility of Jack making a living for himself with his drawings and leaving the newsboy’s life behind for good. Other nights, and Albert loved those most, they’d pick up one of the books Katherine had gifted to the Lodging House, pouring over the pages together and helping each other out when they stumbled upon a fancy word they hadn’t heard before.

It was how Spot found them when he came to apologize to Race after a fight Albert knew nothing about. Race made it a point not to talk about Spot at all when he was with Albert unless Albert brought up the topic himself. Albert knew that was because Race was scared of hurting him, and the heartbroken part of him really appreciated Race’s silence on the matter. As Race’s best friend, however, Albert wanted to know what was going on in his life, even if it mostly revolved around Spot nowadays, so every now and then he would ask Race how Spot was, if they were getting along well, if they had fun at the races yesterday.

Race’s answers were always short and to the point.

“Spot’s well.”

“We’re doing great.”

“Yeah, it was fun.”

Albert didn’t think much about it until Spot appeared out of nowhere in their home. It scared Albert more than he cared to admit – and not just because Spot had always seemed a bit intimidating to him, even during the strike when they had been allies in a common cause. For the first time Albert realized that not everything was well between Race and Spot, and it worried him. The way Spot tried to push down his anger when he saw Albert sitting a little too close to his boyfriend and the flat tone of Race’s voice when he told Spot to go made it very obvious that they weren’t the happy couple Albert had thought they were. It sounded like they had a major fight, and not for the first time, either. When Spot pointed at him and said with so much venom in his voice that Albert took an involuntary step backwards, holding his hands up in defense, “I wouldn’t be angry again if I hadn’t found you cuddling with _him_ on the bed!” Albert knew he was the reason they were fighting.

“W-we weren’t cuddling. I p-promise!” he stuttered out against his will because in that moment Spot looked and sounded so much like his father that Albert felt that old familiar fear of being punished take hold of him.

Race knew the signs of his terror and he recognized them now as Albert helplessly stumbled over his words. He was the only one Albert had told everything about his past. The other newsies only knew about his father’s drinking problems but Race had seen the bruises on Albert’s body, left there in drunken anger by his father after a bad selling day. He’d been there when Albert shook apart at night because his father sometimes followed him into his dreams, even now. He’d taken care of him with soft words and gentle hands when Albert had been so terrified that he couldn’t even form a simple sentence.

And now Race was placing himself in front of Albert as a human shield, ready to protect him from everything and everyone, even Spot, and Albert loved him all the more for it. He knew he shouldn’t, though, because he wasn’t Race’s boyfriend. Spot was. Race shouldn’t take his side over Spot’s, especially not when it meant starting another fight with Spot. This was part of the reason why he’d never intended to talk to Race about his heartmark. He didn’t want to put a strain on Race’s relationship, didn’t want to come between them.

But now, looking at Spot’s angry face and seeing the sad yet determined expression on Race’s, Albert realized that he’d just been kidding himself for the last few months, thinking he and Race could actually make this work without putting Race’s relationship in danger. Spot made it quite clear that he thought of Albert as competition, regardless of the fact that nothing had ever happened between him and Race, and if there was one thing the King of Brooklyn never dealt well with it was someone threatening him. Albert had heard enough stories about boys who’d dared to challenge Spot to know that Spot always came out on top. Always. Spot would never tolerate him, not after what he’d seen today.

And yet here Race was, challenging Spot even though he loved him – or maybe because he did. Where Spot was all hot, vicious anger Race was cool and quiet fury, trying to get through to Spot with calm logic. It was mesmerizing to see Race like this. Just a year ago he would have screamed and shouted right back, but now he simply told Spot in a very soft voice, “You’re just so blinded by your jealousy or whatever this is that you can’t see it. And that’s exactly why you need to go, right now, before you make things even worse.”

Spot didn’t take it well and the argument erupted again. Albert felt like an intruder. He shouldn’t be here, witnessing this private moment, especially not since he was the cause of it. Race and Spot didn’t need him here to mess things up even further for them. They needed him gone so that Spot could take a step back from his jealousy and Race didn’t feel the need to protect Albert all the time. But when Albert offered to go and leave them alone it put them even more at odds. Spot looked like he wanted to throw him out of the window while Race said in no uncertain terms that he wanted Albert by his side.

Albert had never been so happy to see Jack sticking his head in through the door than in that moment. “Everything all right here?”

“Spot was just leaving,” Race said, taking a step back that brought him closer to Albert. Albert’s stupid heart swelled with affection even though he knew it was wrong. He had no right to feel like this. Race should be by his boyfriend’s side, not his. Even though Spot really had no reason to be jealous Albert couldn’t blame him for reacting like this. He wouldn’t like it either if his boyfriend spent so much time with another person. He knew how it felt to watch someone walk away from him, again and again, to be happy with someone else. It hurt.

But Race, wonderfully stubborn as he was, was having none of it. He refused to budge from his standpoint, refused to give Spot even an inch of ground, even though their relationship was possibly at stake. Albert wanted to admire him for it but his stomach filled with dread at the thought of being responsible for breaking Race and Spot up.

Before he could intervene and offer to take a step back from Race’s life, for a while at least to give both of them some breathing room, Spot grabbed Race’s arm in a tight grip. “Does it already say his name on your arm?” he growled. “Is that why you so desperately want me to go?”

The notion was so ridiculous Albert almost wanted to laugh. The last name Race’s soulmark would ever spell was his. He’d come to terms with that heartbreaking fact months, maybe even years, ago. Race seemed to agree with him when he exclaimed, “God, of course not!”

It hurt, just a little bit. It was one thing for Albert to laugh about the idea and quite another when Race did it. There might be no hope for Albert but Race didn’t have to sound so exasperated … maybe even a bit disgusted when he said that. But all of that ceased to matter when Race suddenly cried out, “Let go! You’re hurting me!”

Albert didn’t think. There was no time to panic, to reconsider what he was doing when he threw himself at Spot with all his might so they both crashed onto the floorboards. All that mattered in that moment was Race and the fierce protectiveness Albert was feeling overruled any fear that might have paralyzed him otherwise. Because Race wasn’t supposed to be hurt. Race deserved all the happiness in the world and none of the pain Albert was all too familiar with.

“Don’t you ever hurt him again,” he hissed at Spot, pinning his arms above his head so he wouldn’t be able to throw a punch.

But Albert had underestimated Spot. There was a blur of red and black followed by a sharp, piercing pain in his forehead that forced him to let go. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” he heard Spot say through his daze. “Not you.”

Albert froze. He’d heard those words before. After his mother died Albert had, in his naivety and desperation, tried to get his father to stop drinking. One day he’d dared to grab the beer bottle right out of his father’s grasp, and for the first time in his life his father had raised his hand against him. It was all Albert could think about as he lay curled up on the floor in the Lodging House with the same feeling of terror threatening to overwhelm him as it had years ago.

“Stop it!” Race shouted and a moment later Albert felt him kneeling next to him. He placed a warm, grounding hand on Albert’s shoulder, effectively pulling Albert back into the present, before lightly probing his forehead with gentle fingers. “You all right?” Race whispered, blue eyes wide with guilt.

Albert wanted to ask him what he was guilty about when Albert was the reason he and Spot were fighting in the first place, but before he could say anything Spot yelled, “You’ve destroyed everything!”

Those words haunted Albert for the rest of the night.

“Why didn’t you tell me you two were fighting?” he asked Race later, after Jack had escorted Spot outside and Specs had checked Albert over for a concussion. They were sitting on Albert’s bunk again but this time Albert had wrapped his blanket only around himself, a small but tangible barrier between him and Race.

Race sighed, shrugging a little helplessly. “I didn’t want to bother you with it,” he admitted. “Or worry you.”

“Because of …” Albert vaguely motioned to his heart.

Race nodded. “Yeah. I knew you’d get the wrong idea if I told you. So I didn’t.” He looked up and his eyes met Albert’s. Even in the dim light of the room the blue was piercing. “I didn’t lie when I said you’re not the problem. We were having … difficulties even before you told me about your mark.”

“What kind of difficulties?” Albert asked.

Race bit his lip. “Spot wants me to move to Brooklyn. Permanently. I told him I can’t, not when Jack’s bound to leave sooner or later. And to be honest I don’t want to go. This is my home. The fellas are my family and you,” he paused, giving Albert a fond smile that made Albert’s heart flutter even though Spot’s words still echoed in his head, “you’re my best friend. Remember when I told you on the rooftop that I don’t ever want you to leave? Well, the thing is, I don’t want to leave you, either.”

“But Spot’s your soulmate,” Albert felt the need to say, no matter how warm Race’s words made him feel. “Everyone would understand if you left.”

Race nodded. “I know,” he said, dragging a hand through his curls. “But if Spot’s my soulmate … why can’t _he_ understand that I want to stay?”

He sounded small and so terribly unsure of himself that Albert had a hard time resisting the urge to reach out and pull him close. But he couldn’t do that, not after everything that had happened earlier. He shouldn’t make things worse for Race, so he settled on giving Race’s shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. “What do you mean _if_ Spot’s your soulmate?” he whispered.

Wordlessly Race pulled up his shirtsleeve. It wasn’t the first time Albert had seen his soulmark. Race had never bothered to hide it and though Albert tried not to torture himself by looking at it too much when Race displayed it proudly for the world to see he’d caught several glimpses of it in the past. But what he saw now made him swallow hard. The once ink-black letters on Race’s skin were a washed-out grey.

“It’s fading,” Albert whispered in shock. _You’ve destroyed everything_ , he heard Spot’s voice accusing him. _You’ve destroyed everything._ Albert felt like throwing up.

“I noticed it earlier today, after our fight this morning,” Race said, unaware of Albert’s inner turmoil. He took a shaky breath and his eyes filled with tears as he stared down at Spot’s name on his arm. “I know I still love him but this … this means he isn’t good for me anymore, right? Not like he was before.”

“But he could be again,” Albert insisted, finally tearing his eyes away from the faded letters. “You just … have to figure things out.” _You_ need _to figure things out_ , he thought desperately, _because I can’t be responsible for this. Not for your unhappiness._

But Race shook his head. “All we do is fight, Al. About everything. Me moving to Brooklyn, me not spending enough time with him … even little ridiculous things like me not wanting to borrow one of his shirts for the day. No matter what we do we always end up arguing about it. And I’m tired of it, Al. I’m tired of having to defend my every action to him, of him trying to rule over my life.”

“I’m sure that’s not what he’s trying to do,” Albert tried again. “He just … he loves you. Of course he wants to spend every second of every day with you. Who could blame him?” he added with a self-deprecating smile.

Race looked at him with sad eyes, the blue of them duller than Albert had ever seen it. “So what does it say about me that I don’t want to spend every second of every day with him?” Albert felt his heart plummet. “Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the problem here. Maybe I’m not good enough for him.”

_You’ve destroyed everything._

Albert shook his head. “You’re not the problem, Race,” he whispered, thinking, _It’s me. It’s always been me. And it always will be me._

He couldn’t tell Race that, though, because Race wouldn’t understand. He’d refuse to see the truth even when it was staring him right in the face. His problems with Spot might have existed before he learned about Albert’s feelings but there was no denying that they had escalated since then. Spot was right. Without doing anything, just by merely existing, Albert was destroying the best relationship Race has ever had.

He couldn’t have that on his conscience. He just couldn’t. He had to do something.

In that moment Albert made the hardest decision of his life: he would let Race go. Tonight. His heartmark throbbed painfully at even the thought of leaving Race, sending stab after stab of pain and grief through him with every beat of his heart. Nausea made him feel ill but he knew he had to do this, for Race’s sake, consequences be damned. It was Spot who made Race happy, who caused him heartache right now, not Albert, and Albert would give anything to have Race laugh and be happy again, even his own heart.

With a smile that felt forced Albert said, “How about you get some sleep, hm? Maybe tomorrow things won’t look so glum and you and Spot can talk more calmly about everything.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Race muttered, sounding anything but convinced, but he started getting ready for bed anyway. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Albert swallowed hard. Race’s words surprised him. He knew he should say no, shouldn’t even consider any other possibility but if this was the last time he’d see Race … “Of course,” he whispered, hating the guilt and shame churning in his stomach.

They settled down, face to face, and Albert tried his hardest to commit everything about Race to memory: his curls that were getting a tad too long, almost falling into his eyes; the light freckles that covered his face and were barely noticeable; his lips that curled up in the loveliest smile Albert had ever seen; his eyes that equaled the sky on a bright summer day.

God, he had no idea how he was supposed to live without him. He needed Race like the air he breathed and Albert knew he would love him until the day he died, even if he never saw him again. He’d never stop missing him.

“I’m sorry Spot hurt you,” Race whispered into the darkness, pulling Albert out of his desolate thoughts.

Albert shrugged and the blanket rustled slightly with the movement. “It was my own fault for tackling him,” he dismissed Race’s worry. “And anyway, I’ve had worse.”

Gently, Race reached out to caress the bump on Albert’s forehead with his thumb. Albert tried his hardest not to lean into the touch. “I know you’ve had worse,” Race said, sounding unbelievably sad. “Doesn’t mean I have to like what happened.” He sighed deeply. “Spot didn’t even hurt me when he grabbed me, not really. I just … I didn’t want him to see my soulmark, you know? It felt too much like proving him right.”

“You have to talk to him about it, though,” Albert said softly. “Please, promise me you’ll talk to him, Race. The both of you can still fix this.”

Race smiled at him dully. “We’ll see,” was all he said. It hurt Albert to see him like this.

Silence settled over them and it wasn’t long until Race’s breathing evened out and his body relaxed in sleep. He was breathtaking like this, Albert thought. Unbidden, tears his eyes welled with tears. He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life without Race, broken and without the chance of ever being whole. He wished he could paint like Jack so he could capture this moment forever. He wished he had Katherine’s camera to take a picture so he would never forget how Race looked like right now.

But he couldn’t and he hadn’t, and he knew he had to go now before he lost his courage. Prolonging it would just make it worse. Silently so as not to wake Race or anyone else, Albert slipped out of bed. He pulled on his vest and shoes and took one last, lingering look at Race. “Goodbye, Tonio,” he whispered, choked up. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Turning his back on Race was the hardest thing Albert had ever done. The moment he was down in the common room he had to take a deep, shaky breath to get his emotions back under control. He couldn’t cry, not now when there was still something he needed to do. He owed it to Race to at least explain why he was leaving even if Albert was sure Race wouldn’t understand.

 _I don’t want you to leave. I’ll_ never _want you to leave_ , Race’s words from the rooftop echoed in his head. He hated himself for having to hurt Race like this.

With trembling fingers Albert lit a candle and picked up a pencil.

 _Dear Race_ , he began only to shake his head. That wasn’t right.

He crossed out the words and started anew.

 _Dear Tonio_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of the second story in the "Hearts and Souls" verse. I hope you liked it! I had a bit of trouble editing thing. Getting into Albert's head at this point in the story was difficult because I spent all morning working on Albert's chapter of the sequel to this. I don't know if I'm completely happy with how this chapter turned out but I promised an update this weekend and I like keeping my promises. 
> 
> Speaking of sequels: the next story in this verse is as of today finished (and I'm already brainstorming ideas for a fourth story). I don't know when I'll start uploading the next sequel. I still have to edit it so it might take two or three weeks, tops. For those of you who want to see more JackCrutchie: don't worry, they'll jump on the angst train in the next story. For those of you who want to see more Ralbert angst: I got you, too ;) Just wait until Albert's chapter in the sequel. Poor boy's having a really awful day. 
> 
> Finally, I'd like to thank all of you who leave kudos and comments on my works! You have no idea how happy that makes me! I really appreciate you taking time out of your day to leave a little feedback. It means a lot, so thank you and see you at the sequel!


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